Lady of the Haven (Empire Princess Book 1)

by Graham Diamond

  Stacy stood up, arched her back and nibbed gingerly at her aching muscles. Cicero snarled at her. “You’ve been among men too long, Khalea. You’ve lost your forest ways.”

  Stacy glared at him and growled. “Bite your tongue, brother! I’ll outtrack you anytime!”

  Slowly they moved together, each pair of eyes complementing the other. They moved cautiously, Cicero, nose ever sniffing at the air; Stacy, in a semi-crouch, right hand toying unconsciously at the glistening hilt of her dagger. The sail of the ship began to loom bigger. Stacy could almost make out the forms of men dropping anchor. She could not yet see the iron weight, but she heard the splash as it hit the water. Suddenly her calm was shattered. Cicero leaped to the soft, gravelly shoulder and dodged behind the stump of an oak. Stacy whirled and caught sight of two fast horses swiftly bearing down. She waved a hand at Cicero and growled for him to stay hidden. She would handle the soldiers.

  Moments later the soldiers were at her side. A rough-looking trooper sporting a brush mustache stared down at her, his hands clutching tightly at the reins.

  “What are you doing here, miss?” the soldier asked gruffly.

  The girl batted her eyes flirtingly and smiled. Faking the soft Newfoundland burr, she said, “I’ve been out walking with me beau, sir. Taking in the evening lights, sir. But in the dark I lost the poor lad. Now I’m trying to find me way home by meself.”

  The soldier’s eyes tightened. “You live nearby?”

  Stacy nodded emphatically. “Oh, yes, sir. Me dad owns a farm. Just a small lot of land, you understand.”

  “You don’t look like a farm girl to me.”

  She giggled. “Why thank you, sir. These are me best clothes, they are. I wore it special for me beau.”

  The soldier glanced to his companion, and the other man said, “Do you always carry a dagger with your best clothes?”

  Flustered, she replied, “Me father makes me take it, sir. One never knows if some brute of a sailor will catch a young girl and try to force his way with her.”

  The soldier frowned. “There’s no sailor about in this part of the Free Lands. The docks are a league from here. Anyway, who is this beau of yours?”

  Stacy kicked her boot into the soft dirt and looked down shyly. “I would tell you, sir, if you promise not to tell me father.”

  “You’d better come with us,” said the second soldier. “We’ll see that you get home safe and sound.”

  “Oh, no!” cried Stacy, her hand to her mouth. “Please, sir! Me beau is looking for me.”

  The first soldier reached over and held out his hand. “Perhaps you’d better give me that dagger before someone gets hurt,” he demanded.

  Stacy drew it clumsily. “This one? Oh, bless me! I hear me beau now!”

  Before the soldiers could blink, Cicero leaped from the tree stump. The mares reared and whinnied as the wolf knocked one soldier out of his saddle and sent him sprawling across the ground. Stacy yanked the other soldier’s sleeve, causing him to tumble into the dirt. As he tried to right himself, she poked the tip of her blade hard at his jugular. The dagger glistened in moonlight.

  “If you so much as breathe the wrong way, I’ll slit your throat!” she hissed. “Is that understood?”

  Wide-eyed with fear, he nodded. His companion tried to get up but was met with Cicero’s breath hot on his face. He slumped back down, shivering, not daring to move a muscle.

  “Who...who are you?” stammered the soldier under Stacy’s knife.

  The girl glowered at him, and her eyes flashed. “A wolf,” she replied coolly. “And a sorceress!”

  She withdrew the dagger from his throat and wielded it slowly in front of his eyes. Then she growled something to Cicero, something meaningless; but the very fact that she could speak like a wolf frightened the soldiers out of their wits.

  “Tell me, soldier, where is the rest of your patrol? Are you from the garrison?”

  The man nodded nervously. “Our patrol split up. Two went the other way, and we came this way.”

  “And why were you out tonight?”

  The soldier looked at her, puzzled. “To enforce the quarantine. We’re to make sure that no one tries to cross over this way from Rhonnda Island.”

  Stacy nodded, buying his story. “Have you any cord in your saddlebags?”

  “Cord?”

  “Yes, cord! You know what that is, don’t you? Rope! Have you got any?” Her eyes flashed hotly, patience gone.

  The soldier nodded slowly, his eyes still on the dagger.

  Stacy stood up. “I’m going to check your bags and find it. If you have the urge to move, I want you to know I can throw this knife as well as I can wield it.”

  “I understand,” rasped the soldier, giving his promise.

  She smiled. “Good.” Then she walked over and soothed both trembling horses and dug her hands deep into the bags and finally withdrew several pieces of thick twine. She threw off both saddles, slapped the mares on the rumps and chuckled as they raced off into the night. Next she ordered both soldiers to sit up and, under the watchful eyes of Cicero, bound their hands and feet.

  “I’m going to leave,” she announced when she had finished. “And I want you two to sit here without uttering a sound until dawn. If you don’t, my beau here will be back. Okay?”

  “We’ll not cry for help,” assured one. “I give you my word.”

  Stacy winked at him. “I think I’ll believe you. Goodbye, gentlemen. And thank you for a fun evening.” With that, she and the wolf raced along the gully and fled from sight.

  *

  “You look ruffled, Stacy,” said Elias as his arm was taken and the girl pulled herself up from the ladder.

  She shrugged and grinned. “On the way we ran into a patrol.”

  Elias’s face darkened. “They’ll warn the Windjammer.”

  “I don’t think so,” said the girl. “Right now they’re too worried about a sorceress they met on the way.”

  Elias looked on dumbly as she passed by him and took a long draft of water from one of the barrels. Placing the ladle back on its hook, she faced Elias fully and laughed. “Stop looking so foolish, Captain. It’s almost dawn, and we’ve got a long way ahead of us.”

  Ashcroft heard Elias mumble something about women, then the captain gave the order for the anchor to be lifted. And once again the Brora caught the breeze in her sail. She changed tacks and made her way down the channel, toward the city, to the lure of the open sea sweeping in the distance before them.

  There was a good strong breeze blowing down from the sea as the first light of the new day splashed against the horizon. The purple towers of the city strung out high to their left, the gentle slopes of the Rhonnda Mountains to their right. Elias called for the sails to be slacked and stood tight-lipped as the swift ship passed the familiar shores of the island. Not a soul on land could he see, yet he knew the Brora would be watched from within every window that afforded a view of the river. The stillness was eerie; the whole quality of this strange day left him with a numbness to which he was not accustomed. His mouth remained dry no matter how much water he drank, and his stomach felt weighed down with lead. Yet he remained calm, coolheaded, and as certain of his purpose as he had ever been. He kept his gaze straight ahead, across the bow. Even his crew stood silent. Gone was the usual banter between Ashcroft and Boniface, his ranking officers. They both stood at their posts in similar posture, neither passing a word between them.

  Stacy, standing amidships, held one hand tightly at the halyard line. She leaned hard to port, face strained and anxious. At either side of Stacy stood a wolf. Casca, his sharp eyes fixed on the brightening sky; Cicero, red fur blazing, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Both wolves were preparing for a fight, Stacy knew.

  A cry from the crow’s nest broke the glum silence.

  “Sail, ho!”

  Elias spun about. “Where away, Mr. Beecham?”

  “Five points on the port bow!”

  Elias was ready to g
ive the call for general quarters when his eye caught sight of what Beecham had seen. A small skiff, rowed at a frantic pace by four soldiers, was cutting furiously across the channel. A tall man was standing center boat, waving his hands and shouting. But from the long distance Elias could neither make out who it might be nor what the fellow was trying to say. He was about to give an order when he felt Stacy’s presence at his side. The girl was flushed. Her dark hair glimmered as the first rays of early-morning sun touched it.

  “I think it’s Simon,” she gasped.

  Elias furrowed his black brows. “Simon? Fates above! What does he want?”

  The skiff came closer off the hull, bobbing and tossing amid the swells caused by the Brora’s cut against the channel’s waters.

  Simon seemed to have an awful time trying to balance himself as the skiff tried to keep pace. His hair tossed about; his tunic blew hither and yon. Several times a strong gust almost knocked him overboard, but he seemed determined not to give up until he had spoken his piece.

  At last the skiff drew abreast of the bow. “Elias, listen to me,” Simon called. “You’ve got to turn about!”

  “No chance, Simon,” called back the captain. “If we’re to have a hope of crossing the sea, we’ve got to leave now, before the gales begin.”

  “But the Windjammer’s waiting for you! She’s sitting in the bay, expecting you to try and defy the blockade!”

  “We know she’s there, Simon. But she’ll not stop us.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing, man? She’s armed to the teeth! Please, Elias. Don’t make them fight you.”

  “We’re not looking for a fight, Simon. We’re a Rhonnda ship, and all we ask is to sail from our own harbor in peace.”

  Simon shook his head. “But you can’t! Not while the quarantine’s still in effect. Listen, Elias, it will be lifted soon. I give you my word. As soon as we’re certain...”

  “We can’t wait, Simon. You know that. The Brora’s a danger to no one. We’ll come into contact with no other port or town.”

  “But the Windjammer doesn’t care! Their orders come directly from the Haven. They mean to stop you any way they can.”

  “And we mean to pass,” growled Elias defiantly.

  Simon glanced desperately toward the girl at the captain’s side. “Stacy, make him see reason! Not for me, for Rhonnda! If it comes to a fight, it’ll mean open rebellion against Empire law. The Valley will send more troops — an entire army if necessary!”

  “It’s too late for words,” cried Stacy. There were tears in the corner of her eyes. “And I am thinking of Rhonnda! The Valley must see that we’re masters of our own fate!”

  Simon, shocked, was near tears himself. “Please, Stacy. Don’t do this; The Windjammer’s twice your size. I know her commander. He’s a fair man. He wouldn’t hurt a soul if he could help it. But his orders are explicit. He won’t let you pass! You’ll be killed, Stacy. All of you! And for what? If you love Rhonnda — if you care what happens here after the Brora is either sunk or smashed, you’ll turn around now while there’s still time!”

  Stacy choked back her flowing tears. “Good-bye, Simon,” she called. “Take care of Lorna.” Then she turned her head and paid no attention to the frantic shouts that followed. At length the skiff fell badly behind and the Brora surged ahead, white waves foaming fore and aft.

  The green fields gave way quickly to a succession of jagged mountains. The water of the river was dark gray, but off in the west, Stacy, for the first time in her life, could let her eyes focus on the blue sea. She felt awed by its immensity. She watched a few clouds racing across brilliant sky, and the sun, now burning down from above the mountains, promised to be merciless.

  But Elias noticed none of these things. There was a dark spot on the bay — and huge sails atop it. “Windjammer,” he whispered, with a mixture of awe and defiance. The Brora was now making breathtaking speed as she bobbed with the increasingly swift current and the wind at her back. The hull of the Empire ship grew bigger and bigger before their eyes. Elias could see the outlines of the coiled serpents emblazoned on each sail. Twin-masted, with canvas enough for two ships of its size, the Windjammer would be a formidable opponent, indeed. No creaking slouch she, as Krebbs’s pirate vessel had been, but a double-decked brig with sailors every bit as sharp and cunning as his own.

  Elias wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and prepared for the battle that was now only minutes away. As the river widened into the bay, he snapped, “Dead to windward, Mr. Ashcroft!”

  “Aye, Capt’n.”

  The ship shifted into a short tack and veered hard to the leeward side. The wind was still increasing. The Windjammer began to move in a long tack of her own, wind straight off the bow. Plain as day were the blue-tunicked sailors scurrying at the lines to furl the top sails. The Windjammer’s captain knew his business, Elias noted grudgingly as the tall ship came about gracefully.

  “At quarters!” he barked. While the Brora eased ahead, the crew took to battle stations. Crossbows were slung over every shoulder. “Ask Commander Trevor to come on deck,” said Elias to Boniface.

  The officer saluted and raced off to fetch him. Moments later Trevor came strutting toward the bridge, shading his eyes from the sun.

  “That’s her, Commander,” said Elias, pointing.

  Trevor gulped. He had never imagined the Empire ship to be so large. He glared at the sails and the literally tens of dozens of soldiers standing firmly at the rails.

  Stacy, who had brought her wolves out on deck and had positioned them into leaping formation along the prow, gaped. Across the lines and rigging of the Windjammer she could make out the dark forms of a hundred birds. Predators! Valley hawks and falcons — trained to attack — and to kill.

  “Will you look at that,” whistled Trevor. The birds, clearly on command, began to take to the air and circle the Windjammer. “They’ll be all over us!”

  Stern-faced, Elias replied, “We can handle them.”

  Trevor shook his head incredulously. “Have you ever seen fighting birds in action?” he asked. “I have! They’ll swarm across the deck, and their talons will claw at your archers’ eyes. Why, they can blind a man before he can blink!”

  Cicero growled. Casca snarled. The wolves were obviously less impressed than the soldier.

  Elias turned back to Ashcroft. “Better sound battle stations. It won’t be long before those birds attack.”

  “Battle stations!” cried the officer. The bells clanged loudly. From below, both Trevor’s own men and the husky Rhonnda Rangers came running, weapons in hand. All along the bulwark they crouched. Stacy stared briefly at the Rangers and did a double take. Half of them — more than half — were women! Many not much older than she was. But like her, they were all swift and eager. They held their daggers and crossbows with professionalism, eyes fixed on the enemy ahead.

  “She’s coming about!” called Beecham from the crow’s nest.

  “Thank you, mister,” replied Elias. Then to Trevor, “If you want to try and speak with her captain, now’s the time.”

  Trevor bit his lip. “Not just yet, Elias. Let’s let him think I’m going to defy his authority. We’ll wait until we have to.”

  “That sounds like good strategy,” agreed Elias with a grunt. He spun on his heels and looked to Stacy, forward on the prow. “Are you ready, my lady?”

  The girl nodded. “All set, Captain. Whenever you are.”

  Elias gritted his teeth and smiled grimly. “Mr. Boniface, prepare to ram!”

  “Aye, Capt’n. Oddfellow, prepare to ram!”

  On both sides of the bow hidden catch-doors sprang open. There came the dull grinding sound of a pulley and chains tugging. Stacy and Trevor froze. Two long shiny beams of steel, pointed at the tips like knives, slid slowly out of the doors and gleamed in the sun. They pushed their way forward from the tracks and came to a stop before the bowsprit. They glistened inches above the waterline, waiting to pierce the hull of the Windjamm
er and rip it to shreds.

  “Lock the battle rams, Mr. Boniface!”

  The chains halted abruptly; a series of sharp clicks ensued. Elias nodded somberly. “Draw your bows!” The rugged men and agile girls raised crossbows to their shoulders and kept steady fingers on the hair triggers. Their stares across the water were met in kind by dozens of Windjammer marksmen. Elias strained to watch the face of his adversary, but there was little to be seen. The commander stood impassively, against the reinforced railing, undaunted by either the steel or the Rangers. Then slowly the Empire ship began to turn, broadside, straight off the Brora’s prow, defying her to try and ram.

  Elias bit his lip anxiously. This captain was a cool customer, he knew, and it “would take more than threats to make him run. The captain, virtually glaring eye to eye with Elias, cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Turn about, Captain Elias! We give you fair warning. We’ll not let you pass!”

  The riverman clutched tightly at his own railing. A small pulse throbbed in his neck. “We’re headed for the sea, Commander. Change your position, or we’ll ram!”

  But the broad-shouldered captain merely shook his head. “We can’t do that, Captain Elias. In the name of the Empire I command you to turn about, or we’ll be obliged to attack.” And as if to show that this was no empty boast, he signaled for the full complement to man battle stations. Every soul aboard the Brora was impressed as the tough blue-tunicked Valley troops lifted their weapons and took dead aim.

  Suddenly Trevor unexpectedly leaped to the prow at Elias’s side. “This ship sails on the order of the Newfoundland governor!” he cried.

  “My orders come directly from the Valley, Commander Trevor. Empire orders! They cannot be disobeyed. And I warn you to remember that we both wear the same uniform. Sheathe your weapon at once! And tell your contingent to do the same!”

  This was it, Trevor knew. The moment of truth. The penalty for disobeying a superior officer would be harsh — but his heart defied his head.